


Interlude

by BigSciencyBrain



Series: Refuge [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigSciencyBrain/pseuds/BigSciencyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve reluctantly returns to New York and Director Fury asks him to come back to SHIELD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Thor:TDW and before Captain America:TWS, mid first season-ish in Agents of SHIELD.
> 
> This bridges the gap between the two movies and the rest will be post-CA:TWS.

“Captain Rogers.”

Steve paused. He didn’t look up, deciding to finish planting the pile of tulip bulbs that he wanted to be ready for spring. Digging into the soft earth, he hollowed out pits for them and set each bulb carefully into the ground. “Agent Coulson.”

A pair of polished black shoes stepped into Steve’s peripheral vision. “A mutual friend said you wanted to talk to me.”

“I was hoping you could answer some questions.” Steve filled in the divots and patted down the earth. Leaning back onto his heels, he rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead before stripping off his gardening gloves. “About New York.”

“I know what you’re going to ask.”

“Do you?” Steve finally turned to look at Phil Coulson. He looked the same as he had before he’d been temporarily murdered by Loki.

Phil smiled. “I think Loki knew that you might have questions. He gave me a message. For you.”

Steve kept his expression neutral. “A message.”

“He said there were times a man had to do terrible things. That he had no choice, that it was the only way.” Coulson stepped forward. “He said the reason he was doing it, was you.”

Steve swallowed. His heart felt heavy.

Coulson continued. “He told me that it was necessary that we believed him to be our enemy, that Earth and Asgard would both fall if we didn’t. That the Avengers had to believe I was dead or you would not survive. And he saved my life. Or, at least, he bought me enough time for Fury to be able to bring me back.”

“He saved your life,” Steve repeated numbly. He felt like he should be surprised but he didn’t think that anything would surprise him after realizing he’d lived an entire lifetime that he didn’t fully remember. Coulson’s explanation gave him no answers but it did give him an understanding that Loki had been in an impossible situation. If only he could remember what Loki was trying to protect him from.

“I don’t suppose you have any additional insight that might help explain Loki’s actions. I have to admit that I’ve been curious about what he told me and what it means.”

Steve dropped his gloves into the bucket he’d carried the bulbs in and gathered up his tools. “I don’t know if it was an alternate universe or an alternate life. I know that I had years, maybe even decades, with Loki and that he was different.”

“And this?” Coulson motioned to the motel and the gardens around them. “I heard that you bought a motel.”

“Technically, it’s Tony’s.”

“Do you live here?”

“Cottage down the street. I just run the motel, take care of the gardens. It’s quiet.”

He motioned for Coulson to follow him and dropped off his gardening tools in the shed on his way to the back door of the restaurant. He washed the dirt off his hands and arms in one of the kitchen sinks, earning a scowl from the chef, Lucas. Coulson followed him out into the restaurant area; Steve took a seat at the bar and waited for Coulson to settle on the seat beside him.

“I think Loki used the Chitauri scepter on me. To take away my memories. I remember bits and pieces, a few conversations. A day here and a day there. Enough to know that there’s a lot that I’m missing.”

“Headaches?”

“I get them.” He stopped when he heard footsteps and waited.

Miranda smiled as she came through the back door and wound behind the bar. “The usual, Steve? And what can I get for your friend?”

“Tea, if it’s not too much trouble,” Coulson answered with a smile.

“Sure thing.” She headed back to the kitchens.

Coulson set his arms on the bar top, looking around at the restaurant. “Did you leave New York because of Loki?”

He’d asked himself that question a hundred times. “This place…this feels like home to me. I don’t know why, but I know this place is important. Somehow. If SHIELD needs me, they know where to find me.”

“Do you think Loki will come back?”

“Loki’s dead.”

Coulson was quiet for a long moment. “Death can be a funny thing, Captain Rogers, and Asgardians are very hard to kill. If there’s anyone in this universe I wouldn’t count out, it’s Loki.”

Steve had considered that as well. He knew, almost by instinct, that Loki was a survivor; it was one of the reasons he’d never asked for the details of Loki’s death. If he didn’t know the truth of it, then he could still imagine that there might have been a way for him to survive. “I remember that he was trying to get information from someone. Someone he was afraid of. If he ever told me who or what, I don’t remember it.”

“But it means there’s something worse than Loki out there.”

“Much worse.” Steve managed a smile and a thank you when Miranda returned with a mug of hot tea and a tall glass of lemonade for Steve.

“Have you told Thor?”

Steve shook his head, taking a sip of lemonade. “I know how crazy it sounds, Agent Coulson. I wouldn’t know what to tell him. Maybe it doesn’t matter now.” He stared down into the lemonade for awhile. “What about you? What are you doing these days?”

“I have my own team. They’re green, but they’re coming along.”

“If you ever need help.” Steve left it at that, knowing that Phil would understand. “Or if you ever need a quiet place to stay. It’s small, but Lucas makes a mean pot roast.”

He hadn’t thought too much of it when he’d made old Mister Dobbs an offer on the whole place. Stanley Dobbs had been all too ready to buy a Winnebago and go off to visit his grandkids. Lucas and Miranda Coventry had leased the restaurant from Dobbs, but Steve had given them the deed free and clear. Well, technically, Tony had given them the deed. In return, they’d told Steve that he was welcome to eat there every meal for the rest of his life if he wanted to.

“How are you with extractions?”

Steve shrugged. “Done my fair share. Need someone pulled out?”

“Not at the moment, but I’ll keep that in mind,” Coulson hesitated. “There is one thing.”

“I won’t tell anyone you’re alive.”

“I’d appreciate that. When the time’s right, I’d like to tell the others myself.” He stared down at his tea for several moments. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know?”

“A dream. A hallucination. Maybe it was a memory. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”

The conversation drifted to SHIELD; it was a safer topic than Loki. They drank tea and lemonade and Steve convinced Coulson to stay long enough to eat a sandwich, promising once again to help if his team ever needed it. He shook Coulson’s hand before he left and then returned to the garden. It was late afternoon now. He spent an hour chopping wood and piling it neatly beside the motel’s fire pit.

As he was putting away the axe, Miranda found him, a carry out bag in her hands. “It’s lasagna and some of my rosemary bread.” She pressed the bag into his hands.

“You really don’t have to,” he began.

“I want to. Now don’t let it go to waste.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

The cottage where he lived now was a short walk down Highway One. It was small and built in the same stonework and wooden beam style as the motel. There was an open fireplace in the small living room; he hadn’t furnished it with more than a sofa and a leather arm chair with and ottoman. The galley style kitchen was cozy, but workable. He’d barely managed to fit a king size bed into the small upstairs bedroom and it nearly filled the room completely.

He flipped the light switch as he stepped inside and looked around the living room; there were no pictures on the wall and nothing that made it feel like home. He’d collected a pile of books since he’d moved in; they were stacked neatly by the armchair waiting for him to buy a bookshelf. He still wasn’t sure what he was doing here or why he’d felt compelled to stay.

Maybe part of him was still hoping that Loki would find his way back.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to push those thoughts out of his mind. The SHIELD therapist had urged him to find a life outside of SHIELD and this was it; Steve Rogers, motel caretaker and gardener. He smiled a little at the thought.

He carried the takeout bag back to the kitchen first and put it in the fridge to keep until he was hungry. There was a window over the sink with a view out over the ocean; it was the view that had convinced him to pick the cottage. He’d thought about putting on a side addition, a sun room perhaps, that he could use as an artist studio; although, he should probably figure out how he was going to pay Tony back for financing his insanity first.

When he checked his cell phone, he had three missed calls and a handful of texts from Tony and Natasha. He sent back replies, although he never felt like he had much to say. They were all still hoping he’d find what he was looking for and come back to New York. Maybe he would; he’d stopped trying to guess what was going to happen next. His phone dinged again with another message from Tony, wanting to know if he could come to the Stark Industries Christmas party in his Captain America uniform. He ignored that one.

After putting on the kettle, he returned to the living room to start a fire. Once it was burning steadily, he settled the metal grate into place and headed upstairs to shower and change. He showered quickly, not wanting to dredge up more memories of Loki, and pulled on flannel pajama pants with a t-shirt and an over-sized sweater. A pair of soft slippers kept his feet insulated from the cool wood and stone floors.

Padding back down to the living room, he checked the fire and added another log. In the kitchen, the kettle was beginning to whistle. He flipped the stove burner to off, half watching the sunset over the ocean through the window as he emptied a packet of hot cocoa mix into a mug and added water. Absently, he reheated the lasagna in the small microwave. His phone buzzed on the counter. Balancing the plate of lasagna and mug of cocoa, he grabbed his phone and headed back to the living room, settling into the armchair. The warmth and crackle of the fireplace was calming.

He felt his phone buzz twice more as he ate. Once he’d finished, he pulled it out and checked it again. He had two picture messages from Tony. One was a picture of Thor, who was grinning happily and holding a large stein of beer. The second was a picture of Thor, Tony, and someone Steve didn’t recognize. All three of them had beers in hand, but the stranger in the picture didn’t look nearly as excited as Thor or Tony.

He texted back. _Who’s the new guy?_

_Asgard sent him. Not as fun as Thor._

Steve figured anyone’s first trip to Earth would be confusing enough without Tony Stark being involved. His phone buzzed again.

_You have to come back for Christmas. Natasha won’t let me put up a tree unless you promise to help decorate it. She’s impossible._

Steve smiled a little. He hadn’t been paying attention to the passage of days; this place felt as though it was lost outside of time. The idea of getting a Christmas tree or any sort of holiday decorations for the cottage hadn’t even occurred to him. He was about to text Tony back that he couldn’t leave the motel that long when he remembered that Miranda had a brother who’d been struggling to find work in the city.

He dialed the restaurant number and waited for someone to pick up. “Miranda?”

“Steve! Is anything wrong? How was the lasagna?”

“Delicious. Nothing’s wrong.” He paused for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m going to head back to New York for the holidays and I don’t want to leave the motel. I know Judy can handle the daily cleaning on her own, and the computer pretty much takes care of the reservations, but I don’t want to ask her to cover the front desk too.”

“I can help out if the restaurant’s not too busy.”

“You guys have enough to do. But you mentioned your brother. It’s not the most glamorous job and it’s not in the city, but it’s not too far. Do you think he’d be interested? It’d be nice to have a right hand man, for when I have to travel.” He’d never explained who he was and what he did, only that his job in New York required a lot of traveling, often with little advance notice. Of course, he was still waiting for SHIELD to give him the green light to get back in the field and he wasn’t sure when that would be.

“I’ll ask,” Miranda said quickly. “Thank you for thinking of him, Steve.”

“Hey, it’s a win win for me. I’ll need to know in the next day or two.”

“You will know tomorrow morning. Can I give him your number? Even better, I’ll have him drive out first thing so you can meet him first.”

“Thanks, Miranda.” He said goodbye and ended the call.

He flipped through the pictures that Tony had sent him again, smiling again at the look on Thor’s face. Finally, he sent a reply to Tony’s last message.

_Tell Natasha not to start decorating the tree until I get there._

**

New York was cold and blanketed with heavy snow when Steve arrived. He zipped his leather jacket all the way up and headed out into the blustering wind to catch a taxi. Since he’d never planned to stay in San Francisco, most of his clothes and belongings were still in New York; he hadn’t even packed a suitcase. It made traveling easy, but it brought home the reality of his strange limbo with stark clarity.

Traffic was snarled with the holiday crush of shoppers and tourists. He watched out the taxi’s windows as the blocks crawled by, only half seeing the cheerfully decorated storefronts and men dressed in Santa outfits. Holiday music was coming from the radio, so quiet that he could only just catch bits and pieces of the melodies. Eventually they pulled up to the front of Stark Tower. Steve reached for the door handle.

“Merry Christmas,” the taxi driver said suddenly. It was the first time he’d spoken the entire ride.

“Thank you,” Steve said automatically.

The driver smiled. “You mustn’t give up hope, Captain.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond that; it seemed a strange thing to say. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to complete strangers recognizing him. Thanking the man again, he climbed out of the taxi. Ashe stood on the sidewalk, staring up a Stark Tower, part of him wished that he was back in California, sitting beside the fireplace in his leather armchair with a book. It took a moment for him to recognize the figure standing at the doors of Stark Tower, waiting for him.

Director Fury nodded as he approached. “Cap.”

“What brings you to New York, Director?”

“SHIELD could use your help.” Fury pointed upwards. “Agent Romanov has more details, she can brief you. If you’re interested.”

Steve stuck his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave California, but he knew that was tangled up in the irrational hope that Loki might come back and somehow the world would start to make sense again. “You’re sure you want me back?”

“We need you back.”

He glanced up at the Tower. “When do you need an answer?”

“Just let Romanov know one way or another.” Fury moved away from the doors, clearly having said all he’d come to say. “Merry Christmas, Rogers.”

“Merry Christmas, sir.” He watched Fury’s back until he climbed into the driver’s seat of a large, black SUV.

Snow was still falling and standing out on the sidewalk and chilled the tips of his nose and ears, but he couldn’t quite convince his feet to move. There was nothing keeping him in California beyond a motel he owed Tony for and half-forgotten memories about yet another life he’d lost. At least being frozen in an iceberg wasn’t personal; the fact that Loki had deliberately taken his memories made it that much worse. Now that Loki was dead, he’d never be able to ask why.

With a heavy heart, he started for the Tower doors. The lobby had been tastefully and elegantly decorated with boughs of pine and ribbons; enormous ornaments glittered and spun lazily with the currents of the buildings heating system. He waved as he passed the front desk, digging his access card out of his pocket as he got into the elevator. The upper floors were Avengers territory and more secure than the rest of the building. A green light flashed as he slid his card through the electronic scanner.

JARVIS’ voice filled the elevator as it began to rise. “Welcome back, Captain Rogers.”

“How’s the tower been while I was gone?”

“We have managed to keep Mister Stark out of too much trouble,” JARVIS replied. “Only one of the labs is closed for repairs. There was a small fire.”

When the doors opened on the Avengers floor, the sounds of laughter and holiday music greeted him. He wasn’t sure what the smell was – pine mixed with cinnamon and cloves – but it was heavenly and his mouth was watering before he left the elevator. He stopped a few feet into the room, his attention caught by the sight of Tony and Pepper dancing while Bobby Darin crooned a Christmas carol. A glittered party hat was falling off of Tony’s head and someone had wrapped silver garland around Pepper’s lean frame as though she were a Christmas tree.

Beyond Tony and Pepper was an enormous pine tree. Clint and Natasha were methodically sorting through piles of boxes, each filled with different ornaments and decorations for the tree. Bruce had settled into one of the armchairs with a book and a mug of tea. From the kitchen area, Steve heard Thor’s booming laughter and the lighter, softer laugh of Jane Foster. Suddenly, he felt as though a hand reached into his chest and gripped his heart. He wanted to stay and never leave again and, at the same time, he wanted to run away and never return.

“Steve!” Pepper was the first to spot him. She spun out along Tony’s arm, smiling and laughing. “Welcome home!”

“Cap’s back,” Tony announced loudly. “Tree decorating can commence. JARVIS, deploy the elves.”

A dozen tiny propulsion jets whirred and one of the boxes on the floor all but exploded. Steve could see that they had propellers and mechanical hands with clamps on the ends; he figured that calling them elves was as good as anything else. Tony’s technology was close enough to magic. He watched as each of the tiny robots spun around the tree. Natasha opened up a box of fragile, glass bulbs and tossed one into the air. A robot darted down to snatch the metal hook and carried it to the tree. After hovering over several branches, it settled on one and gently latched the hook between clusters of needles.

“You guys hardly need me for this,” Steve said as he moved closer to the tree.

Pepper linked her arm through his, her cheeks a rosy blush color, and pressed a mug into his hands. “Of course we need you, Steve.” 

He took a sip and discovered it was eggnog spiked very liberally with rum. “Thanks.”

“How’s San Francisco?”

“Good, good.” He caught the curious look from Natasha and gave her a small nod. “It’s peaceful there. You guys are welcome to come out, if you want to get away sometime.”

“Steven! Friend!” Thor was dressed in jeans and an I Heart NYC t-shirt that barely fit over his broad shoulders and chest. Beside him, Jane looked very delicate and feminine.

“Thor, good to have you back.” He pulled away from Pepper to shake Thor’s hand, trying not to wince at the vise grip. Memories of Loki rushed forward, clamoring for attention; he pushed them back firmly. “How’s Asgard?”

“At peace.” Something in Thor’s voice told Steve that the peace had been hard won.

“Good.” He’d imagined seeing Thor again a hundred times and hadn’t ever thought of a tactful way to ask about Loki. Not about Loki’s death, but his life. He wanted to hear stories of the two of them growing up on Asgard, getting in and out of trouble, together as brothers, but he couldn’t ask Thor to revisit that heartache, not when he didn’t know about the other life Loki had lived on Earth.

“You should know,” Thor said gravely. “My brother, Loki, has gone to Valhalla. He died with honor. A warrior’s death.”

Steve pulled his hand away and pretended to worry about spilling his eggnog. He knew what Thor was trying to do; he was trying to ease some of the pain and suffering that Loki had caused by telling them that, in the end, his brother had been more than just a villain. Thor needed to believe it and he needed others to believe it with him. Steve thought of Coulson’s words, thought of all the scattered memories he had of a Loki who no one else had known.

The words came before he could think them through. “I’m glad. I’m glad he wasn’t alone. At the end. I know that he…I mean, I believe that he loved you. You were raised together, you played together, fought together. That’s all that really mattered, in the end, right?”

Thor looked at him strangely, brow furrowing. “Thank you, my friend.”

Desperately, Steve tried to change the subject. “Tony said Asgard sent someone.”

Seizing on less personal ground, Thor nodded and motioned. “Brandr. One of Asgard’s finest.”

Steve turned on his heels, following Thor’s gesture. He hadn’t noticed Brandr when he’d entered the room and the Asgardian hadn’t spoken since Steve had arrived. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His expression gave nothing away; a perfect mask of cold indifference. Though not as tall or as wide as Thor, Brandr had a warrior’s musculature, light brown hair, and clear, blue-green eyes. He merely nodded his acknowledgement of Steve’s presence, his stony expression unchanged.

“Hey,” Steve said awkwardly. He didn’t know why Asgard had sent someone and wasn’t sure that he could ask. Before he could think too hard about it, Thor was demanding to help decorate the tree and began tossing decorations into the air for the flying robots to catch.

Steve retreated to one corner of the long couch and watched the chaos unfold. Every so often, he glanced over at Brandr and saw that the Asgardian was still watching him. He filed it away as unusual, but left it at that. He tried not to imagine what it would be like if Loki were there, beside him. Once the tree was bowing under the weight of ornaments, Natasha left her seat on the floor and took the cushion beside Steve.

“What would you think of relocating to Washington D.C.?” she asked, her tone casual. “They’ve got a Captain America exhibit at the Air and Space museum. You should check it out. It’s a big hit with the school tours.”

He finished off his eggnog as he thought about it. Maybe a change – another change – would do him good. He wasn’t ready to come back to New York City. It wasn’t just the memories of Loki and the Battle of New York; it was all the ghosts of New York that he saw around him. The city he’d loved was gone and this new city might as well be an alien world.

“SHIELD’s got a great relocation package,” she continued.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” She only smiled in answer. Sinking back into the couch, he wondered how Miranda’s brother would feel about making the job a semi-permanent one. “You’re right. It’s time for me to get back out there. Start over, move on.”

She winked at him. “I’m sure we can even find you a nice girl to settle down with.”

He glanced in Tony’s direction, realizing that he’d expected Stark to be unable to keep his mouth shut. If it was still a secret, he could file all of it away in a life that he barely remembered, as though Loki had taken that part of him along with his memories. There was a reason Loki had wanted him to forget; maybe it was better if he did. He raised his mug in a toast. “To moving on.”

**

Snow was falling; small, bitter flakes that cut like tiny blades driven by the wind’s hand. Loki swirled the ice cubes in his glass of scotch, an equally bitter drink that lacked the comforting warmth of Asgard’s mead. He watched the Avengers through the glass and felt nothing.

He told himself that he felt nothing.

After all, he was not Loki here. He was Brandr; a warrior of Asgard who Thor did not entirely trust and no one else knew.

Steve remembered; of that, he was certain. He saw it in Steve’s face, heard it in his voice. Perhaps not everything, perhaps only bits and pieces; it was enough for him to mourn Loki as none of the others did. He remembered enough to know what Loki had taken from him. The dull burn against Loki’s throat was nothing compared to the twisting pain that seemed everywhere and nowhere. He felt it in his chest, in his fingertips; at the center and the edges of himself all at once.

He hadn’t expected to find Steve ready to move on and put those shadowed memories behind him. He’d hoped – he couldn’t bring himself to admit what he’d hoped for. A miracle, perhaps; the foolish dream that Steve might forgive him.

Swirling his glass, he listened to the remaining shards of ice sliding against the inner surface. Steve believed he was dead and Loki couldn’t reveal himself, not yet, not until he was certain that he’d turned Thanos away from Asgard. Grimly, he considered the idea that Steve might be happier believing that he had died.

“With honor,” he muttered. His words were caught up by the cold wind and tossed into the night.

He cared so very little for honor.


End file.
